Private The Roads We Choose

[Zesiro]

The shuttle descended through Kaer's endless sea of clouds, the city emerging slowly from the golden atmosphere until it seemed less like a structure and more like a dream suspended between sky and stars.

Zesiro sat quietly beside the viewport, one hand resting against the armrest as she watched the sprawling metropolis grow larger beneath them. She had reviewed reports about Kaer 1 before arriving. She knew the statistics. The population figures. The economic output. The endless lists of attractions designed to lure visitors from across Confederacy space. None of that had prepared her for the reality of it.

The city seemed alive.

Skyhooks stretched upward toward the orbital station above like silver threads connecting heaven and earth. Traffic moved between platforms in orderly streams. Sunlight reflected from towers, gardens, promenades, and observation decks that floated impossibly above the cloud layer. Somewhere below were casinos, theaters, restaurants, schools, homes, parks, and countless ordinary aspects of life that transformed a collection of structures into a community.

For reasons she could not entirely explain, she found herself smiling, not because it was beautiful, though it certainly was, nor because it was wealthy, though it clearly was that as well, but because she kept finding evidence of people actually living here.

Children would be attending school somewhere beneath those towers. Families would be eating dinner together. Workers would be finishing shifts. Friends would be meeting for drinks. Ordinary lives unfolded here every day, largely unaware of how extraordinary their surroundings truly were.

It reminded her that cities were never really built from durasteel and transparisteel. They were built by people.

As the shuttle banked toward its assigned landing platform, her gaze lingered on a residential district visible farther down the station. Parks dotted the landscape between habitation towers. Recreational complexes occupied several levels. A school complex stood near one of the larger green spaces.

Without meaning to, she found herself wondering whether Hannah would have liked growing up here, and the thought drew a quiet laugh from her; some things never changed, and even halfway across the galaxy, she was still a mother. The shuttle settled smoothly onto the platform, and moments later, Zesiro stepped into the warm air of Kaer 1, where the city greeted her with movement.

Visitors hurried toward hotels and entertainment districts. Workers moved with the confidence of people who knew exactly where they were going. Overhead, transports crossed between levels in carefully managed streams while distant music drifted from somewhere farther along the promenade.

For a moment, she simply stood there. It had been years since Muad had first decided she was family.

Years since he had adopted her in the peculiar, entirely Muad way of simply deciding something was true and refusing to entertain arguments to the contrary.

A faint smile touched her lips at the memory. Family. The word still felt strange sometimes—not unwelcome, merely unfamiliar. For most of her life, belonging had been something temporary, conditional, tied to duty or circumstance. Yet somehow Muad had ignored all of that. He had simply decided she was family and never once treated it as a question open for debate.

Adjusting the strap of her travel bag, Zesiro stepped into the flow of the city and headed toward its heart. She wasn't here as a bodyguard, a diplomat, or because anyone needed saving. For perhaps the first time in years, she had come with no purpose beyond seeing the people she cared about. It felt oddly liberating. Somewhere amid the towers and promenades was the man who had given her a place to belong when she had never expected to find one, and for once, there was no urgency in reaching him.

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

Location: Kaer 1, Level 66


It was the weekend. Not that any particular day meant anything to the man who leaned against the railing of the promenade suspended twenty meters above the main floor. Durasteel walkways suspended in the sky as an elaborate web which offered a great vantage point to the activities below. Couples who strolled, sightseers, even a serene jogging path softened with artificial wood planking saw moderate use on the promenade.

Typically the man would be busy elsewhere. However, he was having a leisurely day. No beskar'gam or weaponry, he was clothed in his long sleeved tan tunic and brown trousers with black boots laced tight. Only the curved kal sheathed at the small of his back was his only physical weapon. Not that the man needed any weapon.

Sleeves were pushed up his forearms to reveal the blue runes that intricately wove from his left hand to his elbow. A gift bestowed upon him from a long ago excursion with two people he loved. One, a brother in arms. The other, a woman who became his riduur. A long time ago. Both gone, somewhere in the galaxy. Still alive he hoped. But if dead, alive in his memory.

A faint scar ran from his right palm to the elbow of his right arm. Another memory of another time. A duel with a sith Master when he was yet a lowly apprentice. The man had used a shard from his own arm to climb from a sarlaac and threatened the sith Master. Oh how young he was. And foolish. Perhaps not foolish but insane, a mad man. Beskar replaced the natural bones beneath the scar. A useful replacement.

He smirked at the nostalgia which infected him that morning. The years and adventures left their telltale marks on his body, and on his mind. Madness birthed blood and war for decades. For a long time he was a weapon, a rabid Loth wolf. Until he realized that he and his ilk were merely pawns for the Sith. Tools and weapons to be utilized in their search for power and conquest.

The collar of his shirt flapped in the cold air exiting the climate control ducts above which revealed part of a brand on his upper chest. Another mark, this one of the Mandragora as the shaman of Doashim. Another tale of his search for kin. Another time decades ago. Even still he felt the power of Doashim as it whispered at the back of his mind. It could take a number with the other voices back there.

More decades passed, more manipulation by those in power who sought to use him, and others like him, in the power struggle of the galaxy. Until he found his family, his aliit. He became mando'ade and forged his own misfit clan. Clan Farr. That was when the mad man decided it was time to build rather than destroy. Family, friends, a home, a future.

The Siskeen System.

Over the decades he chose to stop playing the game of conquest, though a warmonger he remained, and chose to build. The lines blurred between affiliations and became clearer to what really mattered. The ties that bind us. He could allow the galaxy to define who and what he was or he could tell the galaxy to go to hell and choose what defined him.

Being Muad Dib, the mad master, he chose the more difficult path. He chose the road of his own making.

He chose his aliit, his clan, his friends, and his home over the squabbles of political hierarchy, government borders, war mandates, and the unrest of super powers. It was an easy decision to make though not always an easy one to walk. But walk it he did.

Hands pushed away from the railing of where he leaned and he began to stroll along. Yes, even Muad Dib could take a stroll at times. Visitors to Kaer 1 passed him, dressed in various styles of clothing of dozens of systems throughout the galaxy and gave a brief nod of greeting as their paths crossed. Some wondered at his glowing blue eyes. Most continued on their way without thought to the man who appeared average enough to their sight.

Siskeeni citizens, employees, and other personnel who knew his identity would offer a salute, a free smile, or in the case of a cathar family would stop for brief small talk. As the family moved along their youngest, a daughter dressed in a shimmering blue dress, ran back and tugged on his arm. He squatted before the small child to look into her cat eyes.

“I want you to have this. My da and I made it. It's you.”

He reached out and took the wooden figure from the palms of her furred hands and looked at it. A small wooden figure, most likely carved with her own claws, peeked up at him. It was a cathar, mane flying wild. Dressed in armor with a buy’ce under one arm, the only color on the mahogany stained figure were its bright blue eyes. He grinned, his own eyes glowing brighter for a moment.

“Thank you little one. I shall cherish this. Wait, what is that behind your ear?”

His left hand reached out, the runes faintly shimmered, and he brought out a gem the size of his thumb. The child took it hesitantly in awe.

“It's a crystal, like what the Knights of Aegis use in their lightsabers. If you stare into it long enough you will see your reflection, but who you want to be. Now scram and listen to your parents.”

He put a little growl in his words but his smile softened his countenance. With a lurch forward she hugged him then scampered back to her parents who waited and watched quietly. Muad rose and gave them a little nod as the family moved on, the little girl's high pitched voice telling them she talked to the Lion of Kaer, just one of many monikers he earned over his long life.

Knees popped as he rose and continued on aimlessly as he looked at the wooden figure. Another memento of past exploits. He slipped the figure into his pocket and ordered a cup of hot caf from one of the vendors on the promenade before taking a place at the railing once again.

Below was the entrance of one of the interactive museums on this level. Stories, artifacts, and holograms told the tale of 900 years earlier. The rise and fall of The Empire along with the fall of the Old Republic, Resistance, and rise of the New Republic. He found a perverse pleasure of the history lesson of Order 66 playing out on level 66. Families exited with children showing off things bought in the Gift shop. Old x-wings, toy lightsabers, and ancient insignia on a plethora of clothing.

Life continued. It always did, one way or another. The most important part was making every moment count. That was a lesson he learned many, many years ago. Sometimes that meant enjoying the quiet moments and never taking loved ones for granted. A small smirk creased his lips as he sipped from the cup, enjoying
the warmth as it dispersed across his body.

Zesiro

 

[Zesiro]

The city had carried her farther than she intended. Somewhere between the parks, promenades, and endless streams of people living their lives beneath Kaer's golden skies, Zesiro had stopped paying attention to where she was going. Every turn seemed to reveal another corner of the station worth exploring, another reminder that Kaer 1 was far more than the mining facility she had read about in reports over the years. It felt alive in a way many cities never quite managed, and perhaps that was why she didn't immediately notice him. Instead, she noticed the people gathered around him. A family lingered nearby after a conversation. A small Cathar girl scampered back toward her parents, clutching something in her hands while talking excitedly enough that even from a distance, Zesiro could hear fragments of her enthusiasm.

Recognition came a moment later, and a smile touched her lips before she could stop it. Of course, she would find him this way. Not hidden behind an office door. Not surrounded by executives, officials, or security personnel. Simply standing among people. For a few moments, she remained where she was, content to watch. Children approached him without hesitation. Families greeted him by name. Workers offered nods and smiles as they passed. None of it felt performative. None of it felt like people acknowledging a powerful man because they believed they were supposed to. They greeted him because they knew him, and the realization settled warmly in her chest.

Whatever Kaer 1 had once been before Muad arrived, whatever it had become under his stewardship, it was obvious that he belonged here. The city fit him in ways she hadn't expected. Not because of the luxury or the success or the sprawling scale of it all, but because beneath the polished exterior she could see ordinary lives unfolding everywhere she looked. Families. Children. Workers. Neighbors. The kinds of people Muad had always seemed to care about more than titles or politics. Somehow seeing it with her own eyes explained more about him than years of hearing stories ever had.

Only then did she begin walking again. The distance between them disappeared gradually, her pace unhurried as she made her way toward the railing where he stood with a cup of caf in hand. Her eyes drifted briefly toward the museum below before returning to him, taking in the familiar scars, the glowing blue eyes, and the expression of a man enjoying a rare moment of peace. "You know," she said as she came to a stop beside him, "I've heard stories about this place for years." Amusement warmed her voice as she looked out across the level below. "I was beginning to think half of them were exaggerated."

A faint smile lingered as her gaze returned to him. "They weren't." For a moment, she simply stood there, taking in both the city and the man she had come all this way to see. There was no mission waiting for her, no crisis demanding attention, no obligation beyond the simple desire to spend time with family. The realization felt oddly liberating. "Hello, buir."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

Location: Kaer 1, Level 66



Steam from the caf caressed his face. Eyes closed as he inhaled the aroma, the strong, nutty flavor ticked the back of his throat. Even without the force he sensed someone approaching. The soft and somewhat familiar cadence in a woman's step. Unbidden memories shifted in his mind, spinning until a face came to the front. One he knew.

“Sometimes the greatest truths lay within the lies most often spoken.”

His head turned and he looked upon the woman beside him. Years passed since the two were last together. Time left her undeniable imprint upon them both. While his was the sprinkling of white at his temples and creases at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, the woman before him blossomed into the full sense of womanhood. No longer a youth sprung so recently from her teenage years but a woman who seemed at peace beneath her own skin.

“Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad. I know your name as my child. And stories are how we remember. How we understand. How we teach. There are many stories of me that are not suitable for civilized communion. Yet there is truth within them all. I wonder, what stories are told of you ad'ika?”

He turned sideways, leaning against the railing and gave his daughter a once over. She seemed in good health, in good spirits. There was an edge in her eyes blunted by compassion, tempered by experience. This was good. One must remain sharp while allowing what you endure to shape your outlook. He took a swig of the caf while his other hand motioned to the busy floor beneath them.

“If my life has taught me anything, it is to embrace the joy and happiness life has to offer when she feels gracious. Peace as well. If I can give my people homes and a future instead of merely a house and an existence, then that is what I will do. It is what I wish to do. Desire is a funny thing.”

His last words were spoken softly, almost as an inner thought which escaped on exhaled breath. Blue eyes flashed brighter for a moment before returning to their normal level glow. He blinked away the moment and opened his arms.

“Tell me what you have been up to these last few years. But first ad'ika, give your
ole buir a hug.”

Zesiro

 

[Zesiro]

The invitation drew an immediate smile from Zesiro. Some things, it seemed, never changed. For all the years that had passed, for all the lives they had both lived in the meantime, Muad still possessed the remarkable ability to shift from philosopher to father in the span of a sentence.

"Come here, old man."

The words carried affection rather than mockery as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. The embrace lingered longer than she might have allowed with most people. Family had a way of changing those rules. When she finally stepped back, her hands remained briefly on his shoulders as she studied him, taking in the silver at his temples and the familiar glow of his eyes.

"You know," she said, amusement warming her voice, "when we parted last, I distinctly remember you being younger."

The smile that followed softened before she leaned against the railing beside him. For a few moments, her gaze drifted across the bustling level below, watching families and visitors move through the city he had helped shape.

"What have I been up to?" A quiet laugh escaped her. "Let's see. Somewhere along the way, I had a daughter. Hannah is thirteen now, which feels impossible considering I still remember carrying her around." The fondness in her voice was unmistakable. "I was head of security for a president for a while. Apparently, someone looked at my history and thought, 'Yes, this seems like an excellent idea.'"

The humor faded slightly, though not entirely. There was too much acceptance in the memory now for bitterness. "I got married. Lost him, I think. Or maybe lost the answers. It's been seven years, and I still don't know which." Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug before settling again. "Since then, I've been a little difficult to keep track of. One government falls. Another rises. The galaxy decides to catch fire again. I've spent most of my time helping where I can and staying just far enough ahead of the people who occasionally decide I'd be more useful under arrest."

Turning her head, she regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before nudging his arm with her shoulder.

"But enough about me. I've already spent half the trip here listening to stories about Kaer 1 and the Lion of Kaer." Her blue eyes brightened with amusement. "What about you, buir? Aside from adopting cities, collecting titles, and apparently handing kyber crystals to random children, what have you been doing with yourself these last few years?"

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

“You know when we parted last I distinctly remember you being younger.”

He clutched his chest in mock horror, mouth agape. Then he laughed, teeth flashing in a grin as he then smirked and leaned once more on the railing. With another swig of the caf he waited, allowing the moments to gather without need to break the silence. Most would find the silence deafening and uncomfortable, but with Zesiro it was peaceful. No need to babble.

For many, long reunions included a period of awkwardness to reaclimate to one another. This father and daughter, though not of blood but through choice, slipped right into the old groove. Familiarity, mutual respect, and love. They required no recalibration because they were aliit, family. Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Family is more than blood.

He leaned slightly to one side, one shoulder pressing lightly against his kid as he listened to her story. None of it was overtly surprising. Muad knew her to be a strong, resilient woman. The fact she has a daughter was a surprise. Not that she has a daughter but that his information brokers and slicers didn't pass on the knowledge to him. If they knew it. Then she spoke of her husband, lost one way or another and he felt the stirring in his heart for her. A parent always wished they could spare their child from pain, and this was a pain he knew.

He sighed when Zes wound down asking about him. A sigh before he took another swig of his caf.

“Another grandchild, and a granddaughter to boot. One day I would like to meet her. I've got to spoil her some before she grows up too much. Maybe make her a suit of beskar'gam. Maybe a nice kal, not too big of a blade though …”

His eyes twinkled with pride for his daughter.

“You should be proud of what you have accomplished. What you've endured. And what you have overcome. As the pebble you see the initial splash your actions and decisions make. Rarely does the pebble witness the ripples that continue onward. Good deeds always propagate. Just because you do not see it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist “

Finishing the beverage he crumpled the cup and tossed it into a nearby receptacle. His back pressed against the railing as he faced away from the bustle of the floor below them.

“First of all the Lion part was during a … difficult personal time. I grew my hair and beard out shaggy. During the battle I lost my buy’ce. So there I was with a lion's mane while fighting beside the Cathar. The name stuck though the beard most certainly did not.”

He laughed at the memory before turning back to reflection.

“I guess I too grew tired of the galactic game for a while. Governments rise and fall. Systems switch allegiances. Friends grow old or die young. It felt like a cycle of violence and death. Or the stagnation of the more things change the more they stay the same. So we've been building the Siskeen system. Abolishing the classes. I never cared much for the tiered civilization where a janitor was worth less than a diplomat, a teacher scraped by while engineers swam in wealth. We've tried to level the playing field. Tried to get rid of the xenophobic tendencies most planets have. Tried to establish peace and prosperity. Of course that also meant having a bigger stick than everyone else. We still lead with the carrot but we have the teeth to back up our more gentle nature.”

He winked one glowing blue eye.

“Or others gentle natures and my own madness infused one. Unfortunately, with Siskeen in the High Republic space, I've once more been pulled into the galactic game. Derek, my brother, remains President of the United Siskeen Coalition. So I have been tasked as a Senator of the Siskeeni. I'm not cut out for the political intrigue and backroom deals. Give me a war room any day. And these political delegates do not grasp the danger they court with their war strategies. But alas, you don't want to hear about this sort of thing. Though, with your background, you could play an integral part …”

The subtle offer was open-ended. Okay, maybe not so subtle. He smirked.

“And it was a corusca gem. Not a kyber crystal. Much rarer, a better crystal for a lightsaber, and more expensive. Those parents will be in for a treat when they discover exactly what their daughter has.”

He laughed again.

“We've got several sponsored gem hunters in the lower atmosphere of the gas giant. Another profit revenue. Renowned for their beauty in jewelry and their hardness in tools, like mining bits. Although expensive tools. So tell me, what is the next chapter for Zes’ika? And what would you like to do next on Kaer 1. I mean, I might have an in with the owner, so the skies are the limit. Well, technically there is no limit in Siskeen space, so whatever you want, we do.”

Zesiro

 

[Zesiro]

The mention of a suit of beskar'gam for Hannah drew an immediate laugh from Zesiro. She could already picture it. Muad would present it with complete sincerity, Hannah would think it was the greatest gift ever created, and somewhere in the middle of all that, Zesiro would be forced to explain why a thirteen-year-old did not, in fact, need custom Mandalorian armor.

"Let's maybe start with meeting her before we arm her."

The amusement lingered as she listened, allowing him to speak without interruption. It was easy to see the pride he carried when he spoke of Siskeen. Not the pride of ownership or authority, but the quieter satisfaction of someone who had spent years building something and could finally look around and see it standing on its own. As her gaze drifted across the level below, she found herself understanding it better now. The schools. The families. The ordinary lives unfolding around them. None of it felt accidental.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I think most people spend their lives trying to leave some kind of mark behind. A monument. A title. A victory. Something they can point to and say they mattered." Her eyes moved toward the families below. "You built a place where people can live. Really live. That's a much harder thing to create."

A smile touched her lips when he offered her a role in whatever political chaos had found its way to his doorstep. Some things never changed. Give Muad a few minutes, and eventually, he'd find a way to recruit someone into something.

"That wasn't subtle, by the way." The smile widened slightly. "And the answer is maybe."

It wasn't a refusal, nor was it an acceptance. Merely honesty. For so long her life had been spent reacting to events, moving from one responsibility to the next, one crisis to another. The question of what she actually wanted had become surprisingly difficult to answer.

When he asked about the next chapter, her gaze drifted outward across Kaer's skyline. The city seemed endless from here, stretching into the distance beneath golden clouds and impossible towers.

"I don't know," she admitted quietly. "For the first time in a long time, I genuinely don't know." Strangely, the admission didn't bother her.

For years, every decision had felt dictated by necessity. Protect this person. Solve this problem. Survive this disaster. Raise Hannah. Keep moving. Now, standing beside her father with no immediate crisis demanding her attention, she realized she had reached a place she hadn't expected.

Freedom.

The thought sat with her for a moment before she glanced sideways at him again, amusement returning to her eyes.

"As for what I'd like to do next, I think I'd like to see the city through your eyes. Not the tourist version. Not the brochure version." She gestured vaguely toward the levels around them. "Show me the parts you're proud of. The things you point at when nobody important is watching."

The smile softened. "I came here to see my buir, after all. The city is just a bonus."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

"Subtley is my forte. Okay, maybe not. And not knowing what the future holds … for me that is one of the best options. It means you can do anything you wish, or nothing you don't. The freedom to choose your fate. Which means everything is possible."

He could see a sort of relief settle upon her face. A realization that she was free from expectation and commitment. Recognition she was no longer shackled by the past. And perhaps the future was not something to worry about or fear but to embrace the unexpected possibilities.

"Hey, I just went to a meeting with politicians, delegates, nobility, and other staff with titles I don't even remember. They were dressed to the nines. I just wore this, and my bantha leather jacket. When do I care what people think is important. But I do get your point."

Before he could continue the comlink in his pocket went off. He retrieved it and grinned.

"You are going to love this. Come on!"

He led her through the catwalk, weaving between people, waving at a few who greeted them until they reached the turbolift. He pressed level one and grinned over at her.

"Let's call this bring your daughter to work day. The vents in level three hundred sometimes get clogged. Rawwks, they are colorful looking birds, sometimes like to roost in the vents. It's difficult to reach them from inside without, you know, knocking the nest and potential hatchlings into the nether of the gas giant. I found a unique, and much more fun way of doing it. You'll love it."

The lift sped upwards without any indication of turbulence. Speakers in the ceiling played a popular bith band. All instrumentals. He smirked as he pointed to where the sound emanated.

"They play such wonderful music. Just never ask one of them to sing. Painful. Now, you aren't afraid of heights, are you?"

His eyes glowed at his excitement to show his daughter something unique. Something he shared with nearly no one. The doors opened opposite them, a nearly hidden maintenance door that led into an open balcony overlooking the multihued Kaer sky. Near the railing were several turbo winches. He motioned her over and grabbed a jump rig apparatus, strapping it around thighs, shoulders, waist and chest. He nodded to a human male employee who held a second rig out to assist Zesiro if she chose to go with Muad.

"You wanted to see something special and spend time with your buir, right? Come on kid, you've never even heard of what I'm going to show ya."

The mischievous glint in his eyes made them only glow brighter with excitement at the challenge he offered his daughter. The shift from philosophical, to father figure, to proud orchestrator of an entire system's way of life, to potentially risk taking behavior was not lost on Muad. But it was who he was.

 

[Zesiro]

The moment Muad's comlink chirped and that grin appeared, Zesiro knew whatever quiet afternoon she had imagined was officially over.

Years ago, she might have asked questions. These days, she knew better.

People looked at Muad and saw a businessman, a senator, a clan leader, a war hero, or any number of other titles, depending on who was telling the story. Zesiro saw the man underneath all of them. The one who occasionally became excited about an idea and immediately dragged everyone around him into it, whether they were prepared or not.

Predictably, she found herself following along.

"You know," she observed as he led her toward the turbolift, "most families would have lunch."

The comment earned exactly as much consideration as she expected.

By the time he was explaining colorful birds nesting several hundred levels above a gas giant, she had already accepted that lunch was no longer part of the itinerary.

The doors opened onto the balcony, and the sight beyond them stole her attention for a moment. Clouds stretched to the horizon beneath impossible colors, the atmosphere of Kaer unfolding below in vast rivers of gold, violet, and crimson. Then she spotted the harnesses waiting nearby and immediately understood why he had asked about heights.

A laugh escaped her.

"Of course."

Stepping forward, she accepted the rig without complaint. The equipment was familiar enough. Years of security work, starship travel, and generally questionable life decisions had made certain of that. As she tightened the final strap and checked the buckles, she glanced sideways toward her father.

"You realize Hannah is going to think you're the greatest grandfather in galactic history when she hears about this."

The thought alone made her smile.

"Which means I'm going to lose every future argument."

Finished with the harness, she moved to stand beside him at the railing and looked out across the endless sky. Whatever he intended to show her remained a mystery, but the excitement in his eyes was impossible to miss.

Her own smile softened.

"Alright, buir."

She nudged his shoulder lightly with hers.

"Let's see what you've gotten me into this time."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

"You realize Hannah is going to think you're the greatest grandfather in galactic history when she hears about this. Which means I'm going to lose every future argument.”

He laughed, sharing the moment with his daughter.

“That's because I am the greatest! And an argument is never the end, it segways into the next. Ajuyo, toss me the satchel.”

The young man on the turbo winch sighed and walked over to his belongings to throw a red bag at Muad who caught it deftly with one hand and hooked it to his harness with a carabineer. He winked at Zes.

“Sometimes the only way to get anywhere in life is to forget the fear, ignore the unknown, and just jump.”

And with that he turned and ran at the edge, leaping only at the last second. The arc of his jump threw him past the curved levels below. In free fall he felt the wind rushing through his hair, the absolute weightlessness of his body, and the disturbed faces of guests in the passing windows. He ignored them all.

The multi hued clouds whipped by as he fell hundreds of meters. Various levels of consistency brushed his face and several species of birds whisked by at his peripherals. Then he felt the imperceptible pull of traction on his line and swung upright, legs extended as he swung toward the lower level of Kaer 1. As his boots hit the hull he flexed his knees lessening the impact and pressed the tactile switch on the harness.

Low level micro gravity field generators built into the harness anchored him to the side of the station as he stood upright, held by the gravity field horizontally. There were no birds or other creatures in the vents, just some fungal growth. Which meant a burn burst from the station operating systems was all that was needed.

As he waited on the side of the station he looked down, from a normal perspective, taking in the sights. Red, blue, and green trees grew on fungal clouds defying gravity. He knew the lower atmosphere of the gas giant was dense, more so than the upper atmosphere, which allowed clouds of algae to form, riding on wind currents and the massive beldon creatures that floated beneath.

Like giant air balloons or jellyfish, the creatures floated along and formed a symbiosis with the flora and plenty of fauna, including the Rawwks. An undiscovered island in the bog of a swamp. The raawks fluttered around, their colored feathers ruffled in flight. Stands of brown and green grass coated the exterior of the beldon with many bushes and trees creating a rarely seen ecosystem below.

Muad laughed. This was probably the last thing his daughter envisioned upon arriving at the station. Maybe some food. Perhaps a stroll. Not rappelling down a station and landing in the clouds to enjoy the view.

A small raawk flew by and landed on his shoulder to look at him with an expression of bewilderment. They weren't the brightest species and their curiosity got them in trouble more often than not. Muad smirked and blew air into its face. Annoyed, the creature furrowed its purplish plumage then stepped off the human perch to free fall a dozen meters before the currents caught and lifted the bird on outstretched wings.

The bio mass floated upwards as gas was expelled beneath the beldon. Strong odors of methane and other flammable scents filled the air. It was amusing. Tibanna gas wasn't created by the gas giants but was expelled from the beldons. So in a sense, most ships traveled the galaxy from a creature's farts. Now they didn't teach that in schools did they?

“I bet you've never seen anything like that. If you kick off the hull we can swing down and land. They are relatively benign, as long as we don't try to eat them that is. Careful as you land. It's kinda … squishy. Like how you would imagine walking on a cloud as a
kid. Buoyant and springy.”

Zesiro

 

[Zesiro]

The laugh that escaped Zesiro carried into the wind as Muad disappeared over the edge. For perhaps half a second, she considered all the reasons a sane person might object to following him. Then she remembered exactly who her father was. The thought alone was enough to draw another smile to her lips. "Of course," she muttered, shaking her head before taking a running step and launching herself after him.

For a brief moment, there was only weightlessness. The station rushed past in a blur of metal and transparisteel while the open sky swallowed everything else. Wind tore at her hair and clothing as Kaer 1 curved away above her and the endless clouds stretched beneath. Through passing windows, she caught glimpses of startled faces, and somewhere ahead, she could hear Muad laughing as though hurling himself from the side of a floating city was the most natural thing in the galaxy.

The line caught, and the world shifted. The freefall became a sweeping arc that carried her downward along the station's exterior until her boots struck the hull. Instinct took over as she bent her knees, absorbed the impact, and activated the harness. A subtle hum settled around her as the gravity generators engaged, anchoring her to the side of the structure. The impossible became merely unusual, and standing sideways on the exterior of a city suspended above a gas giant somehow didn't even make the list of the strangest things she had experienced.

What made her stop was the view.

Clouds rolled beneath them in colors she had never seen gathered together in one place. Gold bled into violet. Crimson drifted through shades of orange and blue. Massive shapes moved through the atmosphere below, their scale so immense it took several moments for her mind to understand what she was seeing. Trees grew across their backs. Birds darted between branches. Entire ecosystems drifted through the sky beneath Kaer 1 like living islands floating through a painted dream.

Her blue eyes widened slightly as she took it all in. "Alright," she admitted, her voice softer now. "You win." A faint laugh followed as she continued staring at one of the enormous creatures drifting below. "I was expecting a hidden restaurant. Maybe a private observation deck. Not... this." The wonder in her voice was unmistakable, and for a moment she simply stood there letting herself absorb the sight.

When Muad explained what they were looking at, she found herself shaking her head in disbelief. Flying ecosystems. Birds nesting in station vents. Tibanna gas was produced by creatures most people would never even know existed. The absurdity of it all felt uniquely Muad. "You built a city over a giant herd of flying creatures and never thought to mention that part?" The accusation was entirely playful, accompanied by a grin that mirrored some of the excitement she saw in him.

Then she understood. This wasn't really about the birds. It wasn't about maintenance. It wasn't even about the view. It was about sharing something he loved. The realization warmed her more than the sunlight filtering through the clouds. Without another word, she pushed away from the hull, the swing carrying her downward through open air. Laughter escaped her as the clouds rushed upward to meet her, and for a fleeting moment, she felt like a child again, free of responsibility and expectation. The living island rose beneath her boots, and she landed with a surprised bounce as the strange surface compressed beneath her weight before springing back. Another laugh escaped her. "Oh, Hannah would absolutely love this."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

From the floating island, Muad looked up and watched his daughter descend first to the station and then to the proverbial ground nearby. He gave her a few minutes to take it in. Incredulous then magical. Most people lived their entire lives without experiencing what they did now.

To say it was out of the norm was an understatement. Even the galaxy renowned Cloud City on Bespin did not reveal the truth of their own tibanna gas. It might have been the liability factor. But he surmised it was more to do with aesthetics. The general public liked comfort and luxury with the veneer of nature sightseeing. Yet this was so much more.

He moved to one of the trees, branches forking every few feet, where several raawk nests rested. A chorus of chirps and squeaks escaped billed mouths as the hatchlings called to parents for their next meal. Instead of the sounds being shrill, they played a musical melody that swept around them on the gentle air currents. His head shook in awe, even after so many years, and he sat down against the tree trunk, left hand pulling excess rope so as not to get tangled up while he reclined.

“It never gets old. Most people are content to see beauty or nature through a datapad, or painting, or transparasteel windows. To actually experience with your own senses is something all together different and satisfying. You can close your eyes and find peace.”

As he spoke he closed his eyes and let his head drift back into a cleft in the tree trunk. There was a difference between contentment and fulfillment. A difference between living life and experiencing life. He always chose the latter. Time was the only credit one spent without ever knowing the balance. It was his intent to always get his money's worth. In their way of life it was foolish to waste any moment.

“There is no emotion, only Peace. Or … Peace is a lie, there is only Passion. Jedi and Sith. They both get it right and they both get it wrong. They exclude one over another and remove half of who we are. We have emotions. We have passion. And we can have peace. Though finding the balance is the difficult part.”

Muad straightened up and leaned forward as his hands opened the satchel he swiped from the technician. Fresh bread, a chunk of cheese, and two ales, clearly an after work beverage, were pulled free. He split the loaf of soft baked bread and cheese and tossed Zesiro’s share towards her followed by an ale in a glass bottle.

He sandwiched the cheese between his own bread and opened the bottle, taking a thoughtful swig and a satisfied grunt.

“Not ale, honey mead. His wife makes it herself and usually sells a portion to a bar stand on level fifty three.

A bite of the bread wrap was chewed thoughtfully as a mature raawk soared in and landed at one of the nests above them. Hatchlings chirped and then silenced as they were fed. The cycle of life.

“I like it here. It helps me step away for a few moments and allows me to be, well, me. What about you Zes’ika? Have you found your balance? Between emotion, passion, and peace. To quote an old Halcyon/Horn Jedi, ‘when you look in the mirror do you recognize yourself? If you no longer do then it is time to step back and find when you stopped being you.’ Do you still know yourself, or have you lost your identity amidst the many roles you have worn?”

It was a gentle question. One to elicit a moment of introspection without accusation.


Zesiro

 

[Zesiro]

Zesiro caught the bread and bottle with practiced ease before settling beside him, her back resting against the broad trunk as she looked out across the drifting world around them. The bread was still warm, the honey mead pleasantly cool against her hand, and somewhere above them the chorus of hatchlings rose and fell as their parents tended to them. It was such an ordinary moment in such an extraordinary place that she found herself smiling before taking a bite.

For a while, she let the silence answer him. She understood why he came here. Removed from politics, from responsibilities, from the endless demands of leadership, there was nothing to prove among the floating islands. The beldons drifted because they always had. The raawks built their nests because that was simply what they did. Nature carried on without asking anyone's permission, and there was something deeply comforting about that.

When he finally asked his question, her eyes remained on the horizon for several moments before she answered. "I've been happy," she said quietly, as though testing the words before giving them voice. "There were years when I was married to Ed that I was genuinely happy. Raising Hannah has been the greatest privilege of my life. Even protecting a president, as strange as that sounds, gave me purpose. I knew what I was doing, and I believed it mattered."

She lowered her gaze to the bottle, turning slowly between her fingers. "Then Ed disappeared. Seven years later, I still don't know whether I'm a widow or a wife whose husband never came home. Somewhere in the middle of all that, governments changed, wars came and went, responsibilities shifted, and I simply... kept moving." A faint smile touched her lips, though it carried more reflection than amusement. "I became very good at adapting. At putting on whatever role the next day required."

Her eyes lifted toward him then, calm and honest in a way they could only be with family. "So yes, I've been happy. More than once." She paused, searching for words that felt true. "But I don't know if I've ever felt complete."

The admission lingered between them with the same quiet honesty as the breeze moving through the trees. "If that makes any sense." She laughed softly to herself and leaned her head back against the trunk. "Sometimes I think I've spent so many years becoming what other people needed me to be that I forgot to ask who I wanted to become once they no longer needed me."

She turned her head toward him, a gentle smile returning to her face. "That's part of why I came here, I think. Not because I expected you to have an answer." Her gaze wandered once more over the floating islands and the impossible sky surrounding them. "But because you've always seemed to know how to step away from the noise long enough to remember who you are. I thought... maybe I could remember a little of who I am while I was here, too."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

“I don't know if I've ever felt complete…”

Zesiro’s words reminded him of the beginning, so very many years ago. He was a lunatic—no morality to think of. Not necessarily evil but chaos incarnate. Not that people still didn't think of him as chaos, he was a compass without a needle. The Sith beckoned, and he answered. Darkness and real evil existed in that temple, but it was there he found his home. Not a physical home. A place he finally found complete. His first real family.

Sith Pack, that was what they were called. Dresdin, Atin, Arabella, and Muad. They forged bonds greater than anything made in the galaxy. Family. Even now, Atin was head of the Kandossii clan, located here in Siskeen space. Arabella became his riduur, and they had twin boys. Even if Arabella and Hannibal, his youngest son, disappeared nearly a decade earlier. All reports indicated they were dead. And Dresdin, his first blood brother. Also gone.

Gone but never forgotten.

Eventually, he found a new family in the Confederacy and Mando'ade. Years passed. Finally, he found a version of himself now. An alor, head of the Aegis Corporation, home in the Siskeen system, and many, many adopted family. Even Derek led as President on Olanet.

Complete. It was a thing he never knew he wasn't until he was—a sense of belonging, of purpose, of peace. The galaxy was always filled with turmoil. There was always a loss felt. But even in the darkest, a Dib always burned with the flame of life. This is what he wished for his daughter, for Zes'ika.

Above, the sun arced through the sky lazily. Clouds above filtered different colors: purples, blues, grey, and a deep red. Raawks flew home to roost for the evening. It would seem their reprieve had stretched throughout the day. A comfortable relaxation that consumed time. He sighed as he repacked the bag and looked at his daughter.

“The discovery of ourselves when we are young is one of the most important pieces of our lives. For most, they cling to the static image of discovery. But what we don't realize is that as we live, we change, we evolve, we can either choose to embrace the metamorphosis of the change we are becoming or metastasize in stagnation, trying to cling to who we once were.”

He pulled himself to his feet by gripping the low-hanging branches and walked over to the edge to watch the swirling clouds below. Deep toward the inner core of the planet’s atmosphere, electrical charges flew about, not unlike lightning. Crimson and violet streaks of raw power outline clouds before flying to the next grouping.

“Every day we wake, we are more than we were yesterday. But not yet who we will be tomorrow. I remember who I was in my past, but I do not allow it to define me. Because I'm not the person I used to be. I'm more. And the definition of who I am changes with every day and experience.”

He glanced back, his eyes glowing somberly.

“To lose a spouse is life-changing. It shakes you to the core. Pieces of who you are broken and shattered, never to be again. To be pressed beneath the weight of grief. It's unimaginable. The thing is, the death of a loved one can be mourned. And you can inevitably move forward.”

Turning from the amazing vintage, he moved in front of the woman and took her hands.

“You are in a worse place than even that—the uncertainty. Not knowing for sure. It stifles the ability to truly mourn and move on because there is always the question of what if. When you walk through a crowd, your eyes scan the faces of strangers, hoping that you may recognize the specter of your spouse. You can't allow yourself to move on because you never had closure. And so you are trapped in a cycle, existing but not truly living. Because you can't let go.”

He leaned forward and lightly kissed her forehead before continuing.

“I know this because I have struggled with saying goodbye to the only woman I have ever loved against the slim hope I will be reunited with her. It is a living hell. I am forced to ask myself: if the roles were reversed, would I want her trapped, unable to move on with her life? To be stuck in a type of purgatory. Life is what passes us by while we wait to live it.”

Zesiro

 

[Zesiro]

Zesiro didn't speak immediately. She remained where she was, her hands resting in his, feeling the warmth of his palms and the weight of words that had clearly not come from philosophy alone. They had come from experience. From scars. She had known Muad for years, had seen the warrior, the leader, the father, the man so many people seemed to depend upon. Yet this was different. This was not the voice of someone teaching a lesson. It was the voice of someone quietly admitting they still carried an old wound.

Her eyes searched his face with a gentleness that hadn't been there before. It wasn't pity. She didn't think he would want that from anyone. It was understanding. He had recognized her prison because he had built one of his own. Different walls. Different memories. The same loneliness.

The kiss upon her forehead reminded her of a childhood she couldn't remember in a way she hadn't expected, and for a fleeting moment, she found herself wishing time had slowed somewhere along the way. That there had been more afternoons like this instead of wars, governments, disappearances, and the endless obligations that adulthood seemed to demand. Family had a strange way of making even silence feel like home.

She drew a slow breath before giving his hands the gentlest squeeze.

"You've spoken about her before," she said quietly, her voice carrying more curiosity than sorrow. "Not often. Just enough that I knew she mattered." Her blue eyes never left his. "Who was your love, buir?"

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

“You've spoken about her before. Not often. Just enough that I knew she mattered. Who was your love, buir?”

He closed his eyes and turned away. Not creating distance from his daughter but, in truth, composing himself. How to define something greater than himself? A person who completed him for years and years. Even before he knew he was incomplete, she was there—a constant. He cleared his voice, but it still came forth hoarse.

“Arabella Darkhold. Daughter of Garith Darkhold of Atrisia and Rianna Organa of Alderaan. She was born to be a princess twofold. Deadly, beautiful, intelligent, carefree, pure in an innocent and protected way. Most potential suitors feared one side of her parentage or the other. The intelligent ones feared both. The wise ones feared her. At the time, I was neither intelligent nor wise.”

He laughed as he bent and, with his right hand, swept up a cluster of dead foliage. Fingers separated the dense strands, twigs, and dried grass.

“The first time I saw her was beneath an ancient Sith temple. There were several skeletons on these raised dais in the center of the room. A path led deeper. A place none were allowed to venture for none ever returned. I remember her blue eyes so full of life and mischief. The coils of black hair framing her face. The immediate infatuation. All I wanted to do was lean in, feel her breath intermingle with mine, and kiss her lips. To make her laugh, for that day and all the rest. Of course, the fool that I was, I didn't understand what I felt. So you know me, I used the skeleton of one of the old Sith masters like an old puppet. Talking away with the skull. Eventually, Arabella, Dresdin, and I went into the depths of the temple. All trying to impress one another and, of course, doing what we were told not to.”

He tossed the handful of debris out and watched as the air currents caught the pieces, dancing them up and away with a silent promise always to carry the formerly living organic material and never let it fall from the heavens. Maybe in a similar promise he himself made to his riduur.

“She never pushed for more, never pressured me for titles, never demanded anything from me. She was willing to take me as I was, for who I was, even when I didn't know the answers myself. And she had no problems calling you on your osik. We had a daughter cloned from our genetics, then twin boys.”

His eyes closed again as the updraft cooked his fevered brow.

“The Organas and Darkholds are gone. Jia, Nemesis, Hannibal, Arrbi, Jasper, Brika, Anija, Leylah, Berserker, Jorran, Gabriel, Ijaat, Mallum, Malik, Cord, Theon, Bjorn, Hadrian, Teroch, Kad, Enoch, Jake, Sehcaep, Korvinus, Dominus, Bane, Dresdin. Arabella. Just a few I've lost. But I never thought it would be Arabella.”

“She went to help her family, Hannibal went with her, and then her family was attacked, and they either escaped into exile or perished. After a decade, if she survived, Arabella would have found me. She didn't. So, she didn't survive. It's hard to say goodbye when the only woman I've ever loved, ever been with, who became my wife, bore me children, disappeared into the nether.”

His eyes opened, and all traces of the released dead leaves were gone.

“She was the first person in my life who did not merely exist in my orbit but did life with me. Arabella was the piece that was missing from my soul. Now that she's gone, I need to say goodbye and let her go. I've held on so long, I finally realized it wasn't for her. It was for me.”

His gaze shifted to Zes'ika.

“It is easy to find the bravery, confirmation, and validation for ourselves in victory. Harder to do so in defeat and loss, but no less important. I guess the simplest thing to say is, she was my better half. My love. The passionate tranquility to my chaotic madness.”

“Tell me about your Ed, about my grandkid Hannah."

Zesiro

 

[Zesiro]

For a long while, Zesiro didn't answer.

She simply sat beside him, the bread forgotten in her lap, the bottle of mead resting loosely in one hand while the breeze carried the songs of the raawks through the branches overhead. Somehow, hearing Muad speak of Arabella made something inside her settle rather than break. There was sorrow in his story, immeasurable sorrow, but there was comfort too. She wasn't alone anymore. Not in this.

All these years, she had believed no one could truly understand what it meant to live inside a question that refused to answer itself. Death was cruel enough, but uncertainty... uncertainty asked for hope every morning and punished you for giving it. It left no grave to visit, no farewell to speak, no permission to mourn. It simply lingered, year after year, quietly stealing pieces of the life still waiting to be lived.

When she finally looked at him again, tears shimmered in her eyes even as she managed a small, fragile smile.

"I hate that you understand," she said softly. "I wouldn't wish this kind of loss on anyone."

Her voice barely rose above the breeze as her fingers idly turned the bottle, her thoughts drifting far away before she spoke again.

"Edric was... larger than life." A quiet, fond laugh slipped through. "He had this way of treating impossible situations like they were just inconveniences that hadn't realized they were supposed to lose yet. Brave to the point of recklessness. Stubborn enough to challenge the galaxy itself."

Her expression warmed as she looked down at her hands.

"He made people believe they could be better... just because he believed it first."

She drew a slow breath before continuing.

"When Kesh fell, he put Hannah and me on a ship and stayed behind. He didn't hesitate. He just... knew what had to be done." Her eyes drifted toward the impossible horizon stretching beyond the floating island. "Everything that came afterward said there were no survivors. Every report. Every witness. Every piece of evidence." She swallowed. "And yet no one ever found him. No one ever told me they saw him die."

"So every morning I woke up wondering if today would be the day he walked back through a door," she said, a faint, humorless laugh slipping out before she added, "Seven years is a very long time to wonder," and though the weight of it lingered, the mention of Hannah softened her expression almost instantly as she continued, "She has his heart," the certainty in her voice immediate and unwavering.

"She asks questions about everything. She has this impossible curiosity that gets her into trouble almost as often as it gets her out of it." Zesiro smiled to herself. "She thinks before she acts, though. She got that from neither of us." A gentle shake of her head followed. "She's kind. Fiercely so. Sometimes I watch her help complete strangers without expecting anything in return, and I wonder if somehow she inherited the best parts of both of us while avoiding most of our mistakes."

Her eyes found Muad's once more, and a quiet certainty settled over her expression as she added softly that he would like Hannah, the conviction in her voice leaving no doubt.

"And I think..." She hesitated, not because she doubted the words, but because speaking them aloud somehow made them more real. "I think she'd like you, too. She never really had the chance to know what having a grandfather was like."

For a moment she simply watched the clouds drift beneath them before a small smile returned, then she glanced back at him with quiet affection and said softly, "You know what I realized while you were talking? We've both been waiting for people we love to come home," letting the thought settle between them without trying to soften it before adding, "Maybe that's why you understood me the moment you looked at me."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

His smile was one of sadness at the memories they both shared. Perhaps it was true, kindred spirits finding one another without understanding the why. But it was more than that. They both burned with life, even if a portion of their souls smoldered for the one missing. Life has a way of continuing one way or another.

Muad wrapped one arm around his daughter as they watched the clouds shift and change beneath their perch on the beldon. Life imitating life. Nothing remained unchanged. Even if they wished so fervently they did. Feet rocked gently at the motion of the great creature they rode upon as the sun headed for the horizon.

“Hannah won't miss out on this grandpa. I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon. Except maybe dinner. Looks like the Beldon is about to dip deeper for warmer weather for the evening.”

He tightened the rope on his harness and clipped the satchel to his belt. With a shrug, he stepped from the beldon and let the automatic winch begin hauling him to the upper levels. His feet kicked off the side of the station as he ascended. As he rose through the sky, he contemplated their conversation.

Perhaps it was time to say goodbye. To move on. The thought hurt less in the moment, knowing his daughter walked a similar path. Ten years or seven years, time would not dull the ache until they were ready to let go. Maybe he had been waiting to walk the path out with Zes'ika. Unbeknownst to either of them.

At the top, his arms gripped the railing, and he effortlessly flipped his lower body up and over to stand on the deck. Hands deftly unhooked the harness, and he handed the empty satchel to Ajuyo.

“Thanks for the snack, mate.”

As he waited for Zesiro to arrive, he watched the dying sun crest the edge of the horizon, a nice euphemism for the ache within. The time to say goodbye had arrived. The time to stop holding to the past and to reach for the future.

“There's one more place I want to show you before we get some dinner. A place of closure. If you are ready?”

Zesiro

 

[Zesiro]

Zesiro watched him rise through the evening sky, her own ascent following a few moments later as the winch drew her upward from the drifting beldon. The breeze grew cooler the higher she climbed, carrying with it the scent of the gas giant and the fading songs of the raawks settling into their nests for the night. By the time her boots touched the platform once more, the last light of the sun had begun to paint the horizon in deep golds and crimson, and she found Muad waiting where she had expected he would be, his silhouette outlined against the dying day.

She slipped free of the harness and handed it back with a grateful smile before moving to stand beside him once again. Neither of them spoke immediately. They had shared too much for silence to feel uncomfortable anymore. It had become something else entirely. A place where words no longer needed to fill every space between them.

When he spoke of one final place and called it a place of closure, her eyes lifted to meet his. For the briefest moment, uncertainty flickered there, not because she doubted him, but because the word itself carried so much weight. Closure had become something she no longer believed truly existed. She had spent seven years chasing it, avoiding it, bargaining with it, only to discover it always remained just beyond her reach.

Then she thought about everything they had spoken of that afternoon. About Arabella and Edric, about the impossible burden of waiting for someone who might never come home. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. "I think..." she began quietly before a small smile found its way onto her face. "No. I don't think I'm ready." She let the admission hang between them for a heartbeat before gently slipping her arm through his. "But I think I'm finally ready to start becoming ready."

Her smile warmed as she looked toward whatever waited beyond the promenade. "If there's one person I trust to show me what that looks like, it's my buir." She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "Lead the way."

Muad Dib

 

[Muad Dib]

“Not a goodbye. Mando'ad draar digu. Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la. A Mandalorian never forgets. Not gone, merely marching far away.”

He leaned against her for a few moments. Then he placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it an understanding squeeze.

“Come on, Zes’ika.”

With another fatherly pat, he walked to the turbo lift and pressed a button to take them to another floor. He glanced beside him and looked at his daughter. Seven years or ten years, the grief remained. The questions were the worst. Unanswered. Like static on a comlink. The channel was open, and you sent words, but you never knew whether anyone was on the other end.

The doors opened, but another set lay blocking their passage from the lift. On the cold durasteel door was a bioscan. Muad placed his right hand on the template, and a faint beep sounded before the doors parted soundlessly. He nodded for his daughter to walk into the dark room.

The room was circular, nearly two hundred and fifty meters from wall to wall. His steps echoed across the empty floor until he reached the center of the room. There, a circular dais was raised from the ground to waist height. Old obsidian stones with streaks of green ran along the surface. Once close, you could see what it was. An old well. With green liquid within. The surrounding floor reflects the green hue.

“I've been alive a long time. I was alive when the Old Republic fell. I became an adult during the New Republic’s rise to prominence. I got lost in the Netherworld and came out five hundred years later. I became a Sith, if you want to call it that. Started thinking for myself. Formed friendships. Families. Learned a lot. Grew. Evolved.”

“Then I got lost again. Thanks to the trickster God of the taung. A god of the Mandalorians. Came out to now. Well, almost eighty years ago. Been around to see the rise and fall of republics, the Silver Jedi, and the destruction of Manda'yaim several times. I've lost people. Too many people. Some have been erased for a millennium. Others have faded from memory five hundred years ago. Others lost to a lifetime. And yet I persevere. But as long as I continue, they still have a flicker of life.”

“But I am not immortal. One day, either in the near future or in the far-flung reaches of time, I will die. And the sparks of their lives will be extinguished with mine. I can be forgotten. I can't stand knowing they will be gone when that happens. So, I created this. The Memoriam of Clan Farr.”

He reached into the green liquid and pulled out a glob. The stasis field over the well shimmered as he pulled his hand free. Then he looked up. Above them, crystals hung in an invisible gravitational field. Hundreds. Perhaps thousands. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the ichor into the field above, and it stretched out, tendrils of green ichor linking to the uncountable number of jewels above.

As the ichor dispersed among the gems above, each began to glow with an inner light. A heavenly constellation created by precious stones. His hand reached up, just past his head, and he lightly touched a deep red crystal. It shimmered, then sent forth a radiant glow which formed into a figure of a young man. He had long flowing brown hair, reddened by the crystal. His ghostly fingers stroked the thin goatee on his angular chin as brown eyes peered from the figure. Dark leathers covered his legs and torso. Then a computer's voice echoed from the room's walls.

“Dresdin Astil. Also known as Darth Chimera. A Sith master and dread Lord. Joined the Jedi Order and became a Jedi master. A member, then leader of House Astil, an ancient Echani house. Born …”

Muad waved his hand, silencing the voice. In its place, a hologram began to play the text from the muted voice. Around the walls, more holograms played recovered footage of Dresdin Astil. One such hologram revealed Dresdin sitting in a bar sharing a silenced laugh with a very young Muad Dib.

Muad looked away from the holograms and turned to Zesiro.

“He was my friend. He became my blood-brother—just one of many who are gone. But like so many others, they deserve a place to be remembered. Every one of these gems is one lost. To death. To time. Even to uncertainty. This is the Memoriam of Clan Farr. The bioscan sensor at the door is linked to all of our families' genetic markers. Yours too, because it is set to your genetic markers, and your blood relatives can visit as well. They may be gone, but they are never forgotten.”

(Image)

Zesiro